


Jumping In Puddles

by DreadWolfMoon



Series: The Inquisitor Chronicles [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen POV, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Mild Language, Narrative, Romance, some mention of nsfw stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadWolfMoon/pseuds/DreadWolfMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquistor. The Herald of Andraste. The estranged daughter of Trevelyan. Warrior. Human. Reaver. Woman.  Saviour of mankind and the most feared and respected person in recent history.</p>
<p>Who was, at this very moment, jumping in a puddle.</p>
<p> - A short ficlet where hopelessly in-love Cullen daydreams about his Lady Inquisitor (among other things) while she jumps around in a puddle, thinking nobody can see her. -</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping In Puddles

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a gif I saw of an Inquisitor jumping around in a puddle (if anyone has a link I can put here please message me!). Also who doesn't like the idea of a lovesick Cullen gazing out of his window thinking about how awesome his Lady Inquisitor is.

It was easy to assume that she thought nobody was watching her. Or at least that’s what Cullen thought as he stood on the battlements outside his office, looking down at the courtyard far below him. On the lower courtyard, budding warriors sparred together, the ring of steel shaking dust off the ancient bricks surrounding them, and the upper one was relatively empty. Save for three people; Iron Bull, who was talking to Breaker Thram presumably about Reaver tactics, or weaponry, or books, Cullen had no idea. It wasn’t like he could hear them from high up in his tower. The other person was someone he knew very well, or wanted to, even though she didn’t know how much closer he wanted to be with her.

The Inquistor.

The Herald of Andraste.

The estranged daughter of Trevelyan.

Warrior.

Human.

Reaver.

Woman.

Saviour of mankind and most feared and respected person in recent history.

Who was, at this very moment, jumping in a puddle.

Cullen sighed and leaned against the battlements, placing his chin into his gloved palm as he watched her merrily stamping in the large puddle, presumably a leftover from the amount of frost they’d had a week before. She looked like a child, and it suddenly struck him that he didn’t really know how old she was. She couldn’t be younger than 20, closer to 22 or 24. He made a mental note to ask Josephine later. No, she couldn’t know he was interested, he didn’t want to be noted down as “interested in the Inquisitor” on her clipboard. He’d ask Leliana. Which, now he thought about it, wouldn’t be much better. Maker only knew what she would tell her little Ravens if he asked her about the Inquisitor.

He groaned lightly and rubbed a hand over his face. Trust him to get mixed up with this motley crew. Warriors, Tevinter magisters, diplomats, reavers, romance writers/archers, and whatever Sera was. A smile crept over his scarred lips as he thought what Templar Commander Meredith would think of this. She’d probably be a lot less scary than his sister if she ever found out what kind of people he called friends. Complications complications… it was all too Maker-damned complicated.

_Splash_

If only he could be that carefree, to shed his armour and go down to jump into a puddle of his own, getting thoroughly soaked through by the icy, filthy water as he leaped again and again, not caring who saw. The Inquisitor didn’t know how lucky she was to be able to do that.

_Splish_

No, he shouldn’t think that. He was just the commander of the Inquisition’s armies. She was the leader of the entire Inquisition itself. She was the footsoldier who went out and risked her life scouting unknown places again and again, facing up against Giants, Dragons, Venatori, outlaws, demons, Red Templars, every nightmare under the bed it seemed. He didn’t envy her that, but still wished he could go with her every time she rode out of Skyhold into the unknown. What a joy that would be, to protect her and have her protect him in return, to have each other’s backs while facing against an unknown enemy, the terror not able to shatter their faith in one another, making them invulnerable to everything this world could throw at them because they had _each other-_

What was this, one of Varric’s over-emotional romance tales?

_Splash_

Iron Bull had noticed the noise as well now, Breaker Thram long gone to goodness knows where. Cullen’s eyes shifted to the massive Quanri warrior as he leaned against the wall of the Tavern, a grin playing over his face as well, mirroring his own. A flare of jealous protectiveness flared up inside Cullen before he remembered who Bull preferred to share his bed with. How Dorian managed it so frequently was a feat Cullen had to admire. His mind wandered into whether or not the mage had to do extensive stretches before engaging in a night of passion with the Quanari, the same as any warrior should do before a big battle.

Maker’s breath, was he really thinking about this.

_Splish_

He’d rather think about what it would be like with her. He’d seen her fight at Adamant, the way she tore through enemies without a second thought, sometimes using her Reaver training to literally tear through them, revelling in a blood and gore that surrounded her.  He wasn’t going to lie, that kind of turned him on a little. Not the blood or gore, he wasn’t that far gone, but the power hidden inside her, the way her lithe form and wirey muscles concealed a strength that he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He was a pathetic awkward mess when it came to powerful women.

But even so, he didn’t think she’d carry that power and dominance into the bedroom. She was gentle, kind, eager to laugh and even more eager to surreptitiously sidle away from any political conflict if she thought nobody would catch her. He saw her at Halamshiral, fading into the shadows with a guilty but smug look as she explored forbidden areas of the palace. The way she smiled at him over the war table, fingers lingering on his when she passed him a piece or a report, the way she started when his eyes caught hers when she thought he wouldn’t notice her watching, her gaze quickly jumping to the board, or another advisor, anything rather than him. Someone like that, he knew, could be a caring and passionate lover.

A tingle ran through him as he thought of jumping down to the courtyard below (gravity didn’t matter so much in fantasies), catching her in his arms and kissing her so deeply she had to arch back, placing all her weight and trust into his arms encircled lovingly around her. He would feel her kissing him back with almost as much force, both of them desperately trying to show how much the other person meant to them. Then he would lift her into his arms and carry her back to his office, not caring who saw the great Commander Cullen with the Inquisitor’s legs wrapped around his waist, passionately kissing her as he made his way carefully up the stairs to blissful privacy.

And a rather large desk, as well.

_Splash_

Oh, what he would give to be able to take her right there on his desk, he thought dimly as he closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut as if that would help make his fantasies a reality. Just sweep everything off the wooden surface and lay her gently down, covering her body with his and holding her tight against him as he kissed her again, as if that would protect her. That was his greatest wish, to keep her safe. After Haven the desire had only grown, and turned into more than just protectiveness of his leader, but into a deep, burning passion to never let anything hurt her because she was _his_.

And he would show her how much she meant to him. Oh Maker, how he would show her. Kissing would only be the first stage to a very long, very pleasurable chain of events. A blush crept up his unwilling face as he thought about all the things he would do to her, how slowly, how lovingly he would tease her, how easily and desperately she would beg for him to take her right then and there on his desk, not caring who would see them. But he wouldn’t, the great Inquisitor deserved so much more than a quick hard fuck on a desk. No, he would gently take her hand, lift her to her feet before kissing her softly, pouring all the love he felt for her in his heart into that one little gesture, and lead her up the ladder to his bed. Hard fuck it would be eventually, when he dropped all his restraints at her soft command and let the passion and power of his love take over, but before that, right until the end it would be…

Maker’s breath, it would be magical.

_Splish_

The harsh noise of the Inquisitor’s feet slamming into the puddle once again jolted him out of his reverie and he jumped up straight, hand dropping from his face as he looked around guiltily. Luckily nobody was patrolling and had caught him gazing dopily at their leader, blushing like a schoolgirl. Cullen let out a short sigh of relief, and then a bigger one of regret. He supposed Varric was onto something with his overly-emotional love stories full of sighs and moans and not all of them good. This was agony. He knew there was only one way to stop it. It wasn’t going to be easy, Maker’s breath he could already feel the anxiety and fear rolling around in his gut, combined with the excitement of _what if she says yes, what if she loves you too, what if what if what if_.

He’d fought demons and rebel mages and abominations, been tortured and struggled with agonising addiction withdrawls and most of all, Cullen had had the courage to overcome all of those things. If he could do all that and come out of it alive, he could damn well go down to the courtyard and confess his love for the Inquisitor.

_Splash_

Ok, maybe not confess his love all at once. Maybe just invite her up to the battlements for a chat (and hopefully more).

Gathering all his courage, Cullen set his jaw and clenched his fists, and turned on his heel to march down to the courtyard where the Inquisitor was now stepping out of the puddle and brushing down her clothes, to no avail. As he approached her, she looked up and beamed at him, face covered in drops of slightly mucky water. He didn’t care, she looked like an angel. A muddy, wet angel. His heart in his mouth, he stood in front of her, feet shuffling nervously as he opened his mouth.

“Inquisitor…”


End file.
